


The Dream of Spring

by King_Of_Kingz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Pre - Robert's Rebellion, Prophecy, Robert's Rebellion, Targaryen Madness, The Old Gods (ASoIaF), Tourney at Harrenhal, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_Of_Kingz/pseuds/King_Of_Kingz
Summary: "Spring had come, or so they had thought" but it wasn't a proper spring in the end. Here is a tale of lords and ladies, soldiers and sorcerers, tales and prophecies, who come together for Spring and go home with their false hopes.Here an enigmatic dragon prince meddles himself in prophecies; and a Mad King sits the throne finding treachery in all corners. Amid plots and counterplots, tragedy and betrayal, victory and terror, the fate of the Starks, their allies, and their enemies hangs perilously in the balance, while all they wanted was to dream of spring, not winter.
Relationships: Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen, Arthur Dayne & Ashara Dayne, Ashara Dayne & Elia Martell, Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark, Brandon Stark & Ned Stark, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Elia Martell & Oberyn Martell, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Arryn & Ned Stark, Jon Arryn & Robert Baratheon, Lyanna Stark & Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon & Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So after many consideration plus with the help of some of my readers, I've planned to extend my one Harrenhal shot into a multi chaptered rebellion era fic for the purpose of story telling and relationship developments. I hope you guys like this story. If you don't like this premise or if you don't want to see this story, then let me know in a civic manner. With that said, take a read at the fic and I hope you like it.

_**Ashara** _

  
It was the first tourney she had ever seen. Ashara had rode to the Tourney of Harrenhal with Princess Elia and all her other ladies in waiting. The Princess was heavy with child, a boy and prince for House Targaryen she told her ladies, and her state had not allowed her to ride. Princess Elia Martell had made her journey from King's Landing to the grand castle of Harrenhal in a great wheelhouse with curtains of yellow silk so fine the ones inside could see right through them. The huge single decked carriage of oiled oak was carved with likenesses of different dragons ranging from monsters to the ones the size of mere puppies and suns. It was pulled by ten heavy draft horses. The banners of House Targaryen and House Martell flew from the structure. There were bigger carriages to be had in King's Landing for the royal family but the princess was not the one to show off her wealth and power.

While most of the ladies in the service of Elia Martell preferred the comfort and lavish of the wheelhouse, Ashara felt differently. She was not made for sitting in some huge structure while there was a wide world to be seen. Ashara Dayne loved to see the world around her and she was not ready to give up her opportunity to experience this new part of this kingdom she had never seen. She loved to feel the wind in hair and the thrill of riding her horse swift as a storm. When Ashara had been at Starfall, she would race her brother Arthur often in the banks of the Torrentine. Ashara was better at riding than most men but against Arthur she was still his little sister in that matter. That had never stopped her from wanting more challenges though. She had thought about having a race on their way to Harrenhal but Arthur was too busy with his Kingsguard duties to spend time with his little sister.

Her brother had stayed with the royal family for the entire journey from the Red Keep to the Riverlands. The King had wanted his Kingsguard close especially after his arrest at Duskendale. Arthur had promised her that he would accompany her for the best part of the journey but the only times she could even talk to him freely were the times when he would come to her during supper or the times when he could get away from the sight of the king or the prince.

Often she rode alone in the Princess' party. The older women in Princess Elia's company did not share her views on horse riding and preferred the company of Elia over her own. That hadn't mattered for Ashara though as there were always someone in the party to accompany with. Today she rode with her greatuncle, Ser Gerald as it was his shift to guard the Princess. Her great uncle had filled her day with various tales of the lands they passed. The White Bull was not new to these lands. He had been a knight when her mother had been a girl and there were always new stories from him to be heard.

Beyond the castle walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised all along the northern shore of the God's Eye, and the common folk came out from all around the realm to watch the games. For the past week, the travelers had been thick as flies upon the kingsroad; knights and freeriders, singers with their harps and drums, heavy wagons laden with hops or corn or casks of honey, traders and craftsmen and whores, and all of them moving north for the Tourney of Harrenhal, she had known.

"Look at all these people coming here," Ser Gerald Hightower said. "No one would bother looking at Harrenhal for fear of the ghosts and the curse of the castle. But now you'd think as if it's not the case with this tourney. A tourney means rich lords with fat purses. Every landless knight and free riders and singers alike will want to show off their skill to this lord or that and win some of their gold for himself . . . or better if they could find a permanent service to some lord."

"Will you not ride in the tourney, uncle?" Ashara asked, smiling. "Mother said you've also done your fair share of showing off your skill in several tourneys."

"That I did," her uncle said, laughing. "My tourney days are done, little Ash. Now it's time for men like your brother and Prince Rhaegar to rule the lists."

"I could do better than Arthur," Ashara told him brimming with confidence.

"Of that, I only have little doubt," the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said. "But it will not be the tourney grounds you'll rule. Your kingdom is inside the walls of the castle. You shall enchant the great lords and knights alike just like your mother did when she was your age. Who knows maybe you'll find yourself a prince charming to rule the dance floor together with you."

Ashara had little belief in that. Her father had sent her to the court so she could find a worthy match for herself. But despite being in the court for quite some time Ashara had not been able to find such a match. She was tired of looking at men who wanted nothing more than to peel her clothes off and spread her legs. Such men she found in plenty at King's Landing.

Harrenhal's gatehouse itself was as large as Starfall's Hall of Gods. Her home was a large castle but beside Harrenhal it would be a dwarf compared to the gigantic castle. The huge black castle was as scarred as it was massive, its stones fissured and discoloured. From outside, only the tops of five immense towers could be seen beyond the walls. Despite being enormous themselves they were still small to the Palestone Tower of Starfall or the Hightower in Oldtown, her mother's home.

Harrenhal's towers did not soar the way a proper tower did. Ashara thought they looked like some old man's gnarled, knuckly fingers groping after a passing cloud. She remembered the tale of Harren the Black and Aegon the Dragon. Of how the ironborn king had hid behind the safety of the walls of his castle when his own people turned against him. Yet when Balerion the Black Dread took flight, high walls and forbidding towers seemed small and Aegon roasted Harren alive in the tallest of the towers, which was called as the Kingspyre. She could remember from the tales as to how the stone had melted and flowed like candlewax down the steps and in the windows, glowing a sullen searing red as it sought out Harren where he hid. Ashara could believe every word; each tower was more grotesque and misshapen than the last, lumpy and runneled and cracked.

The castleton outside the walls had been burned to ash and blackened stone, and many lords and knights had raised their tents along the lakeshore. Lord Whent had prepared the rich fields to stage his great tourney. The sight of the green grass covering over leagues and the clear water of the lake was a great sight to see. Spring had finally come this year and Ashara wished that the world would be beautiful for a long time.

Lord Whent's servants had already cleared the ground for the jousting and the tourney grounds were cleared of grass and set with mud. Around the ground raised platforms were built for the King and the royal family along with the high lords of Westeros.

The banners of House Whent flew from every towers, the nine black bats in the yellow field. Above the gatehouse, over the other banners flew the Targaryen dragon, red and black.

Ashara twisted her head upward and looked at the massive entrance of Harrenhal. She had never seen such a huge entrance in her life.

Knights, soldiers, and servants gathered to welcome them as the princess' wheelhouse passed through the gates.

The walls of Harrenhal were so thick that passing beneath them was like passing through a stone tunnel. Lord Walter Whent had sent his own riders to receive Elia Martell and the outer ward was filled with men and women alike both highborn and lowborn to receive the well loved Princess of Westeros. They gave way as their party moved past them.

"Time for me to take up my duties, my lady," Ser Gerald told her. "Make sure that you follow the Princess around. And don't get lost." He kicked the sides of his horse and trotted past her to take Princess Elia's side.

A fanfare of brazen trumpets filled the yard to greet the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. A herald announced the name of Princess Elia, and the noble knights and highborn ladies cheered loudly. Her mother's uncle helped Princess Elia gallantly with a hand to steady herself on as she gingerly stepped down from her wheelhouse. Her ladies followed her like a flock of coloured birds, each different from one another.

Despite visibly with child the princess walked with a certain grace that screamed royalty. She stepped in front of the Whent family and Lord Whent and the others in the yard knelt. When she offered her hand Lord Whent kissed her ring. He stood up and said something to Elia Martell that Ashara could not hear from where she was standing.

Soon commands were spilled out and servants quickly scurried across the yard carrying on their duties. Ashara dismounted quickly and handed the reins of her mare to a stable boy who was more intent on taking a peek at her breasts as she hopped down from the horse. He gaped at her as if she were some fairy from the tales. It should have unsettled her but Ashara was used to such looks. King's Landing had made sure of it. She's caught grown men and young boys alike looking at her chest. Sometimes their eyes would roam her body so wickedly that made her flush the first time she'd seen them.

She quickly followed the princess' party as was her duty as the lady-in-waiting of Elia Martell.

Whatever names Harren the Black had meant to give his towers were long forgotten. They were called the Tower of Dread, the Widow's Tower, the Wailing Tower, the Tower of Ghosts, and Kingspyre Tower. The Kingspyre Tower, the tallest and largest of Harrenhal's five towers was assigned for the royal family. The Princess Elia was so gracious as to provide separate chambers for all of her ladies. As one of Elia Martell's ladies Ashara's apartments were in Kingspyre Tower as well, still the tallest and mightiest of all, though lopsided beneath the weight of the slagged stone that made it look like some giant half-melted black candle.

Harrenhal was so vast, the most of the castle has been left to decay. Lord Whent held the castle as bannerman to House Tully and a leal vassal to the Iron Throne, but the Whent family used only the lower thirds of two of the five towers, and let the rest go to ruin. The small household left in Harrenhal could not begin to tend the needs of all the knights, lords, and highborn ladies the tourney had brought together. There were more servants than she could ever count.

Ashara's rooms were in the top of the tower, a cavernous vault overlooking the God's Eye. The floors were freshly scrubbed and the room was furnished with fresh furnitures with a great four poster bed in the center. Walls, doors, windows, steps, everything was built to an inhuman scale that was so large it was best fit for a giant to live in, not for a woman like her.

When her belongings were placed in the chambers, a maid urged her to take a bath and prepare her for the opening ceremony of the tourney. Ashara would have preferred a quick sleep in that huge bed of hers but then a soak in hot water would be good as well. She followed the maid to her bath.

The bathhouse was a dim, steamy, low-ceilinged room filled with great stone tubs. When Ashara walked in, she found them all empty but for her.

The maid followed her in, leaving the bathhouse to the two of them. The tubs were large enough to hold six or seven, after the fashion of the Free Cities, so Ashara climbed into one and stretched her legs in the hot water. She immersed herself up to the chin in the steaming water. Her maid walked behind her and washed her hair. She grabbed a brush and began to scrub Ashara hastily. Her skin was soft and red by the time the maid finished cleaning her and then she anointed her with scented oils. When the bath was done, both Ashara and the bathhouse was covered in the pleasant fragrance of lavender.

She returned to her chambers and the woman helped her to dress. Ashara chose a rich gown for the day as it was supposed to be a grand feast and she wanted to look splendid in the grandeur. She was dressed in a lilac gown, with sleeves of silver myrish lace which covered up to her wrists. A silver sash made of satin encircled her slender waist. Upon the bodice amethysts cut in the shape of stars were sown and they shimmered every time she moved and the light caught in them. She wore her mother's chain, the silver necklace with the glass star pendant and her glass slippers. Her long dark hair flowed freely down her shoulders and her back and Ashara pinned them in place with silver pins resembling silver stars in a night sky.

When she was dressed and ready to go to the tourney, Ashara thanked the maid and left her chambers to Princess Elia's. Inside the princess was already dressed and was breaking her fast with her older companions. When she saw Ashara, Elia Martell gave a gentle smile. "Sweet Ashara," she said. "We were waiting for you. Come join us."

Ever since she had come to the court as a fairly young maiden, Princess Elia had taken to calling her sweet Ashara stating that she was pure and sweet, free of any corruption of the world. Ashara could feel the eyes of the others on her. Despite her being young and new to the court, Elia Martell was good and kind to her. Her kindness had been unfailing, and her presence made her loneliness go away often. Her other ladies welcomed Ashara as well but they were not so friendly with her as Elia was, partly because she was young and new to the court and partly because she was beautiful. Even now she could hear Lady Ulla Wyl and Lady Beatrice Blount wisphering in hushed tones looking at her from head to heel.

"You look beautiful, sweet lady," Elia told her when Ashara took her seat. "Surely all the men would kneel before you to win your favour."

The compliment made Ashara blush. "Thank you, Your Grace," she said. "You're beautiful as well."

Elia chuckled lightly. "Thank you, Ashara," she said. "You're so kind." She took a little bite of the bread she was eating. "But it's not about me now, my lady. Your brother has received a letter from you mother regarding you. Since he's too busy and outright unskilled in matchmaking, he's given the duty to me."

"Forgive me, Your Grace," Ashara said. "I shouldn't bother you-"

"Oh, it's not a bother, Ashara," Elia told confidently. "It's my duty to make sure that my ladies receive the best. And I want the best for you as well."

Despite her short time in the court, Ashara soon realized that Princess Elia had made good matches for the ladies in her service. Two of her ladies, Lady Carla Fowler and Lady Ava Santagar had already been married to Lord Bar Emmon and Lord Chelsted's heir respectively. A few of the princess' ladies had already been betrothed to reputed knights and high lords as a result of Elia Martell's cleverness.

"Will you sit with me in the tourney today, Ashara?" Elia asked.

Ashara knew what she meant. To sit by the side of the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms is a honour not all of her ladies got. "Your Grace, I don't think I'm worthy-"

"Would you not sit beside your own sister?" Elia asked. "Don't worry, my lady, I'll not bore you out. I'm sure we'll have a good time."

Ashara smiled.

"Since you didn't find anyone around King's Landing to your liking," the princess continued, "we shall look here. Perhaps we'll find someone worthy of you up here in the North, my lady."

Before she could come back with a response, a guard arrived telling the princess that Prince Rhaegar was demanding her presence to start the tourney.

"Well then, shall we go," Elia asked and Ashara helped her to stand up. The princess slipped her hand through her own and they made the long way out to the tourney grounds.

Beneath the walls of Harrenhal hundreds of tents and pavilions had risen up of many colours. Ashara saw bright banners cracking in the wind, and knights in mail and plate on barded horses. She could smell roasting meats, and could hear the sound of laughter and the blare of heralds' trumpets. The great tourney was about to commence, they were waiting for the princess and her ladies.

The King was already there, sitting in the high seat of the royal stand flanked by his kingsguard, Ser Gerald and Ser Barristan. It was clear to Ashara that since the Defiance of Duskendale, the king had not taken care of his appearance. Rumours had it that the king would not permit his hair to be cut, or his nails to be groomed for fear of blades. His hair and beard were unwashed, matted and tangled, and his nails were yellow and grew almost twice as long as his fingers. He was thin and gaunt, looking more like a peasant during famine than a regal king.

Prince Rhaegar was waiting for his wife with her brother and Ser Oswell Whent. The crown prince of Westeros was the complete opposite of his royal father. The Prince of Dragonstone looked every inch a leader and warrior. Tall, clean, handsome and well groomed, Rhaegar seemed every inch a king should look like.

When they arrived before him, Rhaegar took his wife's hand firmly in his and led her to the royal stands. The Crown Prince and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms made such a wonderful sight as the shining lights of Westeros, a hope of bright future for the realm. They were greeted by a wild roar of the people that Ashara could feel it right to her bones. Arthur escorted her to the stand behind Rhaegar and Elia.

As the people were more occupied with the royal couple, Ashara discreetly elbowed her brother at his unguarded arm.

"What was that for?" Arthur asked looking down at her.

"What did you say to the Princess?" Ashara asked him.

Arthur grinned like an idiot. "I have no idea what you are talking about?" Before she could hit him again he brought her to her seat beside the princess and kissed her hand. The eyes of the audience were on them now, people shouting for the splendid Sword of the Morning and his fair sister. Ashara cursed herself and flashed him and the crowd a sweet smile. Though the way Arthur grinned at her, she knew that he could read her thoughts.

Champions from all over the land had come to contest in the tourney. Ashara spied the direwolf of Stark, the crowned stag of Baratheon, the Moon and Falcon of Arryn and the Tully trout flying from one of the stands. The golden rose of Highgarden flew from another one along with the dozen banners of other reach houses around it. Even in King's Landing Ashara had never seen such pageantry.

The septon of Harrenhal said a prayer to the gods and the tourney started with the addition of the newest member of the Kingsguard to take the place of the late Ser Harlan Grandison.

Ser Jaime Lannister looked handsome in his newly made white armour with silver chasings and fastenings. He could not have been any older than her. At five and ten, the Lannister heir was already knighted by her brother. King Aerys himself stepped down from his seat to come down and accept the vows of his newest Kingsguard.

The White Swords all stood in a circle around Ser Jaime, King Aerys at the head of them. She was too far away to hear the vows said. When the vows were said and accepted, Ser Gerald Hightower provided a fresh white cloak to the king. Aerys draped the white cloak over Ser Jaime's shoulders and pinned it there. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard helped the knight up to his feet and the White Swords gladly welcomed a new brother to their ranks. The crowd was elated to see Ser Jaime as the newest knight of the Kingsguard and cheered for him loudly.

Even the other lords beside her in the royal stands were happy about it. Ashara wondered where Lord Tywin was. She wondered if the Lord of Casterly Rock was indeed wroth with the king for the theft of his heir. He had not come to witness the great the great honour bestowed upon his son. Though it would not have been a great honour in his eyes as it was for the others. Unlike her brother Arthur who was a second son, Jaime was Lord Tywin's firstborn and his heir. Without Jaime now the heir to Casterly Rock was his youngest son, Tyrion, the imp. Small wonder why Lord Tywin wasn't there. Though many of his knights and bannermen had come from the west to participate in the tourney.

The blare of trumpets ringed across the field and the tourney began. The splendor of it all took Ashara's breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind. She had never seen such a grand score of knights in her entire life.

They watched hundreds of knights ride forth, each more fabulous than the last. She had expected all seven knights of the Kingsguard to take the field, but the king kept Jaime Lannister close beside him.

The daughter of Lord Walter Whent reigned as queen of love and beauty, a fair maid with the laurel of the queen of love and beauty upon her head. The girl looked happy to be there in the center of the tourney her father had arranged for her name day. Five champions swore to defend her crown; her four brothers of Harrenhal, and her famous uncle, Ser Oswell Whent, the white bat.

Every knight that took the field stopped before her to ask for her favour. A knight with the twin towers of House Frey was the first one to come to her to win her favour. Then there was a Darry, a Bracken, a Mertyns from Mistwood, a knight with the brindled board of the Crakehalls painted on his shield, a knight from House Cuy, both a green apple Fossoway and a red, a score of Tyrell knights, Lord Mace's cousins who all gave her roses of various colours to proclaim their love. By the end she had enough roses to bound a huge garland. The most notable of her suitors was the young Lord Jon Connington which made all the eyes of the ladies turn towards her since Lord Jon was a honourable man who was said to have 'never looked at a woman twice in his life but for his mother.'

Other knights were trying their luck with her companions as well. She saw Lady Wyl give her embroidered kerchief to Ser Aron Santagar. The famous Ser Richard Lonmouth promised Lady Jeyne Swann that he would win the tourney and crown her the Queen of Love and Beauty as it is her due. There was knights from all of the Seven Kingdoms. Ashara remembered Lord Yohn Royce, who was an old friend of her father from the War of the Ninepenny Kings. He was dressed in his bronze armour. Her father had told her that it was thousands and thousands of years old, engraved with magic runes that ward him against harm. Lady Sylva pointed out Ser Myles Mooton, in his blood red armour, the leaping salmon on his helm. He had been Prince Rhaegar's squire and was knighted by the Dragon Prince himself. There were others from Essos as well. Ashara saw Thoros, the red wizard among them as well.

For every rider she knew there were a dozen riders Ashara did not know; hedge knights from the Fingers and Highgarden and the mountains of Dorne, unsung freeriders and new-made squires, the younger sons of high lords and the heirs of lesser houses.

The white knights of the Kingsguard all took the field except for the new Ser Jaime, in scaled armor the color of milk, their cloaks as white as freshfallen snow. When Arthur passed her Ashara threw a white rose to him as her favour. Her brother caught it and pinned it to his cloak. When kind Ser Barristan came behind her brother she wished she had given something to the old knight as well, who had always been kind to her. Maybe she would get another chance.

Lord Mace Tyrell and the Stark heir entered the lists as well, and so too the Dragon Prince who wore Princess Elia's favour, handsome in his night black armour.

The horns blew for the day's first joust. Prince Rhaegar was the first rider to appear. When the Dragonprince made his entrance, a murmur ran through the crowd. He wore a blood red cloak over his night black armor. The breastplate was ornamented with rubies fashioned in the shape of the three headed dragon of Targaryen. His white horse wore a blanket of silver chainmail, rich in contrast to the prince dark and brooding atop it.

The prince saluted the king, rode to the far end of the list. His opponent was the eldest son and heir of Lord Walter. Ser Walton entered the lists riding on a black stallion armoured in a black armour like Rhaegar's but wasn't as fine as the prince's. The people of Harrenhal cheered for him but it was not as loud as the one Rhaegar received. He lowered his visor and rode to his end. Both men couched their lances, ready.

The hastily erected gallery trembled as the horses broke into a gallop. The prince leaned forward as he rode, his lance rock steady and shifted his seat deftly in the instant before impact. Ser Walton's point was turned harmlessly against the black shield with the dragon blazon, while his own hit square. Wood shattered, and the heir to Harrenhal reeled, fighting to keep his seat. A ragged cheer went up from the commons.

Ser Walton just managed to stay in his saddle. In the second pass Rhaegar spurred forward at a hard gallop. Ser Whent rode to meet him. This time, both men shifted their seats and stuck the other with their lances. Both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters had settled, a riderless black stallion was trotting off in search of grass while Ser Walton Whent rolled in the dirt.

Ashara heard applause, cheers, whistles, shocked gasps, excited muttering, and even the long shrill cackling of the king. Ser Walton offered his respects to the victor and Prince Rhaegar accepted it graciously and lowered his broken lance at Ser Walton as a token of respect. Both men left the field with a smile on their faces.

By then Ser Quentin Tyrell was in position at the head of the lists. Ser Quentin was one of the Tyrells who gave her a rose and a cousin of Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden. He wore a ornate armour of grey steel and a cloak of light green silk flew from his shoulders.

Then came her brother for the second joust, clad in pure white armour, shining like the dawn. The commons went mad for the Sword of the Morning as he entered the lists. Arthur's horse was white as well, barded in the front in silvered steel polished to the highest sheen that both man and beast together glowed in the sunlight like some bright star. His lance was white as well, fashioned from weirwood.

Her brother saluted the king, rode to the far end of the list, and couched his lance, ready. And suddenly it began. Her brother's white stallion charged forward steadily. Arthur led him in a hard gallop as he neared Ser Quentin. Ser Quentin wrenched his shield into position, locked his lance at her brother, and suddenly Arthur was on him, quick as a lightning, placing the point of his lance just there, and in an eye blink the Tyrell was failing.

Arthur reined up at the end of the lists. His lance was not even broken. His armour shined in the sun as he removed his helmet, smiling. He clasped the rose at his chest, the white one she had given him and offered the victory to her by bowing his head. A huge cheer went up from a thousand throats for the Dayne siblings and Ashara accepted his homage and the people's love with a charming smile.

The next tilt followed quickly. She saw Ser Oswell and Ser Gerald unhorsing Ser Rosby and a hedge knight sworn to Aerys Targaryen respectively in their first jousts. Lord Whent's second son Ser Oswald dismounted a couple of the Freys and was then dismounted by another knight from House Frey. The last two sons of Lord Walter Whent did not survive long as well, failing to a freerider from King's Landing and a knight from House Stokeworth.

The jousting went all day and into the dusk, the hooves of the great warhorses pounding down the lists until the field was a ragged wasteland of torn earth. A dozen times Ashara had to close her eyes and gasp at the impact, lances exploding into splinters while the commons screamed for their favourites. All the lessons of the septa to be a great and perfect lady meant little when war was played as a game in front of her eyes where people can get hurt dearly.

Ser Barristan rode brilliantly. He overthrew Ser Marlon Manderly of White Harbour, a fine knight from the North who had defeated the champions of Lord Whent's daughter and then Ser Foote from the West as easily as if he were riding at rings.

There were other victors as well, a knight from House Haigh and Lord Jason Mallister unhorsed a knight from House Marbrand so violently that he seemed to fly backward off his charger, legs in the air, to land on the ground so hard that Ashara was certain he was dead or had broken his neck for good. She was only relieved when the man stood up and walked away from the field.

In the end there were several new champions of the were made and undone. Notably Prince Rhaegar and all six knights of the Kingsguard and Lord Jason survived to take the field in the next day.

By then, the moon was well up and the matches were stopped for the day. There were five days assigned for the jousting and one had come to the end but there was still a long way to go. Lord Walter had arranged a grand feast to mark the opening of the tourney. So the court moved to a vast draughty hall, larger even than the throne room in King's Landing. Huge hearths lined the walls, one every ten feet or so, more than he could count, all had been lit, so that the chill of the night air could be kept out. Tables and benches had been placed all throughout the hall on what seemed like acres of smooth slate floor, piled high with fresh fruits and strawberries and fresh-baked bread and wheels of cheese and butter.

Ashara was given place of high honor, to the left of the raised dais where the king himself sat. Princess Elia was to her right and the other ladies took their places in the nearby benches.

Prince Rhaegar placed himself between his father and his wife. The crown prince had removed his dark armour in favour of his courtly clothes. He wore a deep black doublet studded with a double row of red dragon heads. His hair was as bright as the moonlight. Already half the maidens in the hall were swooning over him but the prince only had eyes for his wife.

Rhaegar smiled and kissed Elia's hand, handsome and gallant. He talked to her all night, showering her with compliments, making her laugh, sharing little bits of court gossip. Ashara was so happy for Princess Elia that she had such a sweet prince for her husband.

All the while the courses came and went. A thick pie of venison. A thick stew of beef and barley. Salads of sweegrass and plums, sprinkled with crushed nuts. Roasted quail in honey and garlic. Then came trout fresh from the river, roasted. The meat course was huge, consisting of several aurochs that Lord Whent's cooks had been roasting for the entire day.

Later came sweetbreads and pigeon pie and baked apples fragrant with cinnamon and lemon cakes frosted in sugar.

The singers stood before the king's table, filling the dusk with music. Soon the tables were cleared out to make place for the dancing.

The Prince and princess shared their first dance. Rhaegar was gifted in dancing as well it seemed, his moves nimble and graceful.

Other guests soon joined Rhaegar and his wife on the floor. Ser Myles danced with Lady Sylva, and Lady Jeyne with Ser Richard. Lord and Lady Tyrell moved more sedately. Other lords and ladies were now rushing to dance as well. Everyone said Ashara had a gift for dancing, but today she didn't feel like dancing. She has seen enough of dancing at the court, enough of lusty groping and lewd whispers.

Ashara sat with her hands in her lap, watching how the pregnant princess danced with her husband, still easy on her feet. She was so buried in her thoughts that she scarcely heard someone standing in front of her and calling.

"Arthur?" she said surprised.

Ser Arthur Dayne stood beside the dais. "My lady, would you honour me?" Her brother bowed slightly.

Perhaps she ought to have remained in her seat, but then looking at her brother she wanted to dance and spend time with him so badly. She took his hand with the smile.

Arthur gave her a curious look. "Shouldn't you be charming the men with your dance, little sister?"

Ashara made a face at him. "I don't need to charm anyone."

He smiled. "If you say so," he said. "You would at least make a exception for you dear old brother."

It was so sweet and silly that Ashara had to laugh. "You're not so old, Arthur," she told him. "Just a little bit."

Arthur laughed. "Well, dancing is exhausting," Arthur observed. "But I think I can survive longer in the floor than you do despite being _older_ , little sister."

"Is that a challenge?" Ashara asking,smiling. "You should know better than to challenge me like that Arthur. You barely won the last challenge with the horse race."

Arthur grinned, leaned over, and messed up her hair. "But I did win."

Ashara flushed. They had always been close. Arthur and her. They had been together ever since their childhood. Ashara was glad that her brother was here with her in the strange lands lest she would have never survived this long away from Starfall.

"I never thought so many people would come to the tourney," Ashara told him.

Arthur gave her a half smile. "It's essential that they come here, Ash," he said, looking deep in thought. "Let's just not talk about it. For now I want to have a good time with my beautiful little sister."

That made her smile, despite the discomfort she'd found in his eyes as he answered her. And they did have a good time as they danced. Arthur told her about the various lords in the court she's not been familiar with, even told her of their made up names. Some of the names were so funny that they made her giggle wildly.

When the dance was over Ashara was giddy with delight and laughter. Arthur left her with a kiss to her knuckles and no sooner the dance ended other suitors appeared.

Prince Oberyn Martell stole her from the arms of her brother. The brother of Elia Martell led a fast pace much like his famous moniker, the Red Viper. He slid his arm around her waist, tightened his grip and drew her closer, a lot closer that it was close to be considered immodest. His eyes were hot on her body as well that Ashara found it hard to face him without blushing immediately.

The Prince of Dorne talked a lot as he danced. He told her she was exquisite and beautiful. Oberyn was open in mocking the lords and knights on the floor. Even the king and Prince Rhaegar did not escape from his japes. When the dance came to an end, Prince Oberyn became gallant once again and left her with a moist and lingering kiss to her cheek.

The music spun them apart as soon as the dance ended and Ashara found herself in the arms of Jon Connington. The proud lord of Griffin's Roost was completely proper with the way he held her or danced with her. Lord Jon Connington didn't talk much as well. He was a gifted dancer, Ashara could see. His moves graceful and his legs steady and light. When the dance ended, he left her with a thank you and a light kiss placed on the back of her hand.

She was tired by then, tired of the music and the dance and the festivities. Ashara walked back to her seat and take a sip of her cool wine. The arbor gold was sweet in her mouth and it cooled her insides after the heavy session of her dancing.

"My lady." A tall, handsome young lord stood before the dais. On his doublet was the badge of the racing direwolf, picked out in silver thread. Stark, Ashara knew somehow, thanks to her lessons. She was surprised that people from the far north had come to take part in the tourney as well.

"My lord," Ashara addressed him. "I'm sorry, I don't think I know you."

The young man gave a dashing smile. He seemed a little older than her. "There's no need to apologize," said the young man in white. "I am Brandon Stark, son and heir of Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell. It is an honor to know you, fair lady. Even in the far north, the singers praise the legendary beauty of the fair Lady of Starfall." He bowed.

The courtesies her septa had taught her over the years came back to her. "It's an honour to meet you as well, my lord. Are you here to ask me for a dance?"

"Yes and no," Brandon Stark laughed at her confusion. "I am here to ask you for a dance on behalf of someone else."

"Really?" Ashara asked surprised. "Who would that be?" She had never had anyone ask her for a dance on someone's behalf.

"My little brother," Brandon turned his head in the direction to the centre of the hall, and Ashara followed him. She saw a youth dressed in the same clothes as Brandon sitting in the bench beside the handsome and powerful Lord of Storm's End. Brandon's little brother was a young man closer to her age, paying little attention to the grand feast.

"Why didn't he come?"

Brandon laughed. "Why," he said, "he is afraid of seeing your beauty up close. He's been eying you the whole night from afar. Few more hours and his head will be stuck at that position forever and I don't don't want to see his dour face at any odd angle."

"So you want me to dance with him?" Ashara asked.

"If it pleases you," Brandon Stark said. "But I promise you, you'll be making his day a thousand times better if you do so. He is enchanted with you."

Ashara looked at the younger Stark. He was looking at her as Brandon had said and when her violet eyes found his, he quickly looked down and away from her. Ashara smiled at Brandon.

Brandon grinned at his brother. "Isn't that cute?" he said. "As dull as he is, even Ned needs something to do here."

"Ned?" Ashara asked.

"His name is Eddard," Brandon said, "but we call him Ned."

"Ned," Ashara said it again, softly. The name had a nice touch to it and she was truly in awe of the Stark brothers. In a place where younger brothers live in the shadow of the older ones, she was surprised that Brandon came to ask her to dance with his brother.

"So will you dance with him, my lady?"

"I will," Ashara said, smiling. "Don't tell him that yet," she told the Stark heir. "Thank you for coming to me."

Brandon bowed his head. "I should be the one thanking you, sweet lady," he said and left to his bench.

Ashara stayed in her place for quite sometime watching Eddard Stark. As the night grew, the songs turned more melancholic. Prince Rhaegar started a song with his plucking his high harp masterfully that the entire hall quieted to listen to him.

It was then Ashara made her mind to go to Eddard. He was seriously engaged in a conversation with the Lord of Storm's End that he did not see her standing there in front of him.

It was his companion who saw her first. Lord Robert nudged Eddard Stark with his elbow and cocked his head at her. His friend followed him to see her.

"My lord," Ashara dipped lightly into a curtsy, gracefully. "Would you honour me with a dance?"

Eddard Stark blushed deeply and his mouth opened and closed like a fish. Ashara bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing at him.

"I," he stammered. "My lady, I... um I- my lady."

"Of course he would be glad to share a dance with you," his friend replied for Eddard. "He's been eying you the whole night." He pulled the Stark up to his feet. "You can thank me later, Ned." Lord Robert lightly shoved his friend towards her.

Eddard Stark looked at her with a shy smile. "I'd be most honoured," he said at last and offered his hand.

Ashara took his arm and led him toward the dance floor.

"You don't have to be so scared of me, my lord," Ashara told him. "Surely I'm not that terrifying to look upon."

"No, no, my lady," Eddard said at once. "You're lovelier than a dawn."

Ashara gave a defeated sigh. "Did you know that you're the last person here to say that to me," she told him. "By this point I'm tired of hearing that again and again."

He gave her a puzzled smile. "I spoke only a simple truth, that any man with eyes could see."

Ashara laughed lightly. "How well can you dance?"

"Quite good, I suppose," Eddard said. "Certainly not as bad as Dacks is. Robert always says that he dances like a girl with a palsy."

Ashara chuckled at that and Eddard followed.

"Well then, we'll see what you're made of," she said, rising on her toes, and then pretended to follow him onto the dance floor while in fact leading him.

She took his hand and led him in the first steps to the light music of the harp, circling around each other with their palms clasped together.

When she took a step forward with her left, Eddard moved back in time, letting her set the pace. "You're leading," he smiled.

"You're doing pretty good," Ashara told him. "Stay with me."

"They are all looking at you," Ned told her as she twirled in his arms.

She spinned slowly on her right foot, with her fingers clasped in Eddard's over her head. She turned one more time and stepped out and returned her hands to their original position on his hand and shoulder, smooth as a silk. Ashara could feel her partner tense.

"It's strange," Eddard admitted.

"What dancing with me?" Ashara asked, smiling. "Am I that bad?"

"No," Eddard chuckled. "It's strange that I have a lot of people that I don't know staring at me for dancing with you."

"Just keep your eyes on me," She told him, rising on her toes to look him in the eyes, the grey eyes, gentle as mist.

"Are you having a good time, my lord," Ashara asked him as she turned in his arms and leaned her back against his strong chest.

"Not as much as one would enjoy a grandeur such as this," Eddard Stark replied. "This place is filled with strangers."

Ashara spun and moved away from him. Eddard followed and pulled her back to him gently. "Well, consider that there's one less stranger from now on, my lord."

They moved around in a circle as they stepped in time with the slow music. Stark guided her perfectly in a circle so gracefully that she was so impressed at his talent. "That was a nice move, Lord Eddard."

A look of surprise flashed over Eddard's face. "Thank you, Lady Ashara."

"You're welcome, my lord," Ashara replied. "But I am not Lady Ashara to my friends, I am only Ash."

He gave a smile. "Then I must insist that you call me, Ned." Eddard gently wrapped one arm around her waist and cradled the back of her head in the palm of his other hand, and then guided her backward in a dip.

"Ned," she whispered when he was so close to her face.

"Ash," Ned replied and brought her back up.

The way he said it was so sweet that Ashara had to laugh, and even Ned managed a smile. Smiling, she let the music take her, losing herself in the steps, in the sound of lute and pipes and harp . . . and in Ned's arms, she found herself safe and happy.

She whirled away, her skirts swirling around her like purple flames and Ned brought her back to him and raised her into the air by her waist. Ashara laughed as he brought her down when the music died. She very much wanted the dance to extend for some time so that she could spend some more time with Ned. But the time betrayed her. The dance was over, and the beautiful dream had ended with it.

The moon was well up and the king had already departed, so the crowd was starting to leave the Hall slowly as well.

Ned bowed his head and kissed the back of her hand. "Thank you for the dance, my lady," he said. "Will we meet again?"

"We will," Ashara said. "If you don't continue to refer to me as a stranger."

Ned smiled. He was so handsome when he smiled, Ashara saw. Handsome in a way different from his friend or brother. "Have a good night, Ash."

"I will, Ned," Ashara told him. "Thanks to you."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Rhaegar** _

"The Spider is a clever man," said Aerys Targaryen, the second of his name. 

The King has been at high spirits through the whole day, believing that his leal and loyal subjects were all so happy to see him there with his unwashed and uncut hair and the unkempt beard and nails. For their part to greet the King the lords had presented gifts in the feast to welcome him. Though he received all the other presents graciously the one he liked the most was the eunuch's words of treason and traitors and plots behind his back. It made his father look as if he had accomplished something far greater than anything he has done before. 

Today he had been brought the news from the south that two of the escaped outlaws from the Kingswood Brotherhood had been caught in the woods. The news had made his father feel elated at the prospect as if he had caught them all by himself. As of late dealing with prisoners and traitors were the only way to humour his grace's passion.

While the eunuch was explaining what had happened at King's Landing, his father sat there on his chair, fondling the long beard with fingers tipped with long, yellow nails almost a foot long. He has been growing them since Duskendale, Rhaegar knew. His father had never allowed any blade to touch him or even reach his presence since coming back from the dungeons of Duskendale with his life. 

Between the King and the eunuch, Varys, there was an immediate, secret, silent understanding. Something his father has never expressed with someone else, not even his own wife and son. Unlike the other men, the Spider was never afraid of him as well. As common as it was with the men occupying his father's halls and council the eunuch had just the right thing to say to make the king smile. Rhaegar knew without a doubt that it was the Spider's doing that his father was here now. 

"Merryweather!" called Aerys Targaryen with a cackle.

Lord Owen Merryweather, Hand of the King to his father, entered the room obediently. The Lord of Longtable was an old man, whose hair had throughly turned to half grey and half white, making his age evident to anyone who might lay their eyes upon him. Rhaegar liked the lord hand who was an amiable and open handed. Though the prince also knew that old Lord Merryweather was largely incapable compared to the previous Hand, Lord Tywin Lannister. Whatever madness had made his father send the Lion of Lannister away from his office struck his plans more than anything else his father had ever done. 

"Merryweather, assemble the Small Council within the hour," said the King. "I intent to deal with the issue of the traitors as soon as possible." He let out a sharp cackle. "Rhaegar," His father's pale purple eyes fixed on his face. "You will attend this meeting as well."

He could see the reason clear in the cold, pointed look of his father. He trusts me not. Rhaegar knew that more than anyone did. And for good reason as well. Lord Merryweather and Grandmaester Pycelle did everything they could to keep the peace between him and his father and sometimes Rhaegar found it hard to make peace with the king. His father saw enemies everywhere, blades in every shadows that he didn't even find his own wife and son trustworthy. And the manner he treated his mother. . . that had been the worst of them all. He had never forgiven Aerys Targaryen for it, nor will he ever do. 

Rhaegar knew that his father only asked him to attend the meeting so that he could keep him under the watchful eyes. No doubt the king thought that it was the height of his intelligence since keeping Rhaegar under watch stopped him from plotting with others away in the hiding. The Prince of Dragonstone just nodded lightly. "As you wish father," he said and bowed his head. 

His father dismissed the guards except for Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard. The king would never accept to be in a room with others without any one of his Kingsguard and as he stepped out of the Red Keep for about after several years his paranoia had only gotten worse. 

He decided that they talk about the matter at once even though the outlaws were being held in the dungeons of the Red Keep. It wouldn't surprise Rhaegar even if his father sent commands back to the Red Keep in order to bring those outlaws to Harrenhal just so he could execute them without even waiting to get back to King's Landing.

Soon the Small Council of his father was assembled. They did not meet in the vast Hall of Hundred Hearths, which could hold a hundred people, where the endless lords and ladies who had come to attend Lord Whent's tourney gathered for the night's feast. The great hall was used for the Grand Councils or to host large feasts attended by thousands. Today the king's small council gathered in the gloomy solar of Lord Walter Whent in the Kingspyre Tower of Harrenhal which the lord had graciously provided for the king throughout the entirety of his stay. A fire burned on the hearth beside the table where they had gathered.

The members of the small council took their places round a long table to decide the fate of the outlaws caught in the Kingswood. The King sat at one end, his elbow on the arm of his great chair, his hands crossed beneath he is chin, resting his weary head on the back of his hands. To his right sat his Hand of the King, Lord Owen Merryweather, Lord Qarlton Chelsted, the Master of Coins, Lord Symon Staunton, the Master of Laws. Rhaegar took his seat right on the other end of the table, facing against the King. To his right on the king's left sat Ser Gerold Hightower and Lord Lucerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships. 

Two of the spots remained vacant, the place of Grand Maester Pycelle and King Aerys' favourite executioner, Wisdom Rossart. The old man had not accompanied the king and his court to Harrenhal opting to stay in King's Landing with his mother and brother Viserys. And the pyromancer was likely in his Alchemists Guild busy with making wildfires for the king. Rhaegar had been conversing with Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell and Lord Walter when his father's summons had arrived. He had been sent for by his father despite the late hour, who, doubtless thought that he was conspiring as he had always done ever since his paranoia about Lord Tywin declined.

The Hand of the King spoke first. Years older than his father Aerys, Lord Owen was less taller than the king. He had become the Hand after Lord Tywin left the office shortly after his father had told him the decision of naming his son to the Kingsguard to fill up the vacant position Ser Harlan Grandison had left. Replacing Tywin Lannister with Owen Merryweather had proved to be ineffective by a distant measure, to be sure, but Owen had been an old done man when Aerys raised him, amiable if ineffectual. The old man was more suitable for lavishing praise upon the King and laughing at all of his father's jokes, especially the ones pointed at Lord Tywin. He only did get the post because of that, Rhaegar knew. As cruel as his father was to those who considered as traitors and his enemies, he was openhanded and gracious to those he considered his friends. 

It took Lord Owen only a few minutes to furnish a complete picture of the situation based upon the report that the grandmaester and the eunuch, Varys had given him.

"The Grand Master and his words have been remitted into your hands, Your grace," he said giving him a rolled parchment from the Red Keep. "You have absolute power to dispose of them as you will. Could we hope for anything better?"

The Master of the Laws agreed with him. "Isn't that for the better?" Lord Symond Staunton said. "The realm is better without the outlaws."

Lucerys Velaryon nodded. "After all these men had been terrorising any highborn who dared to cross their path," the Master of the Ships said. "They are fit only to meet the executioner's block or a hangman's noose."

Headsman's axe and hangman's noose, more like they would find themselves at the end of Wisdom Rossart's wildfire. "That isn't all of it, father," Rhaegar spoke for the first time. "The men were asking your pardon to leave and join the Night's Watch as their other comrades. Surely they could be allowed to do that."

The king eyed him with deep purple eyes burning like pools of enchanted fires. "You would have these traitors walk away from justice without any retribution," his father said. "Has laying with the delicate dornishwoman turned you into a weakling yourself? You are a dragon, don't you ever forget that."

Of course he would never forget it, for he had been born with all the circumstances around pointing it so. In Summerhall he had born amidst salt and smoke, the smoke from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of Rhaegar's birth and the salt from the tears shed for those who died. That had made sense of the Woods Witch's prophecy to his grandfather which had led his parents to marry each other. Until the bleeding star had come. . . He had to leave a proper realm for his son when he arrives into this world to embrace his destiny. 

"When a man takes the black all his crimes from the past are cleansed away," Rhaegar told his father. "The Night's Watch could do well with more men, father. Maester Aemon would say you of that." In his youth his father had a big respect for the wise uncle he had serving in Castle Black. He hoped that it would convince his father into letting those men go and do better with their lives rather that simply burning them for spectacle. 

"No!" he cried. "No more shows of mercy. They should know how the dragon's mercy tastes like. Burn them like a dragon!" 

"As horrible as this sounds, my prince, this had to be done for the royal power could not be questioned," Lord Staunton said, a flicker of irony showing at the corners of his mouth. "The populace of the Seven Kingdoms should know that the king's hold on the realm is still strong despite what happened in the past. Treason should not go unpunished."

In Lord Symond’s presence, everything seemed suddenly to quicken in tempo. He seemed to move in like a hurricane in a plane. He was almost as old as his father, but looking at the two men one would think that the lord was a decade younger than the king. 

Black of hair, with a large nose, his face handsome, he was dressed with an almost certain lavishness which would make some of the ladies at court look as if they are common born women from the streets of Flea Bottom. The Lord of Rook Rest was one of the other lords who had gained the position of the Master of Laws by flattering his father, something which had never sat right with Rhaegar. 

"Aye." His father raised his hands, the nails each almost half a foot long. "Heh, they should know better than to play with the dragon."

Rhaegar sat straight in his chair and looked at all of his father's trusted advisors with a deep frown.

"Lord Staunton must be misinformed," he said calmly. "The outlaws of whom he speaks, they have asked for the king's pardon. As for the smallfolk, I have had reports that they are much divided in opinion about the means of executing people."

"Divided!" cried Aerys Targaryen. "By what right are they divided? Who asks the people their opinion? You do, Rhaegar, and one may well guess why. This is the result of your charming policy of assembling the highborn and the smallfolk to disapprove my decisions, the King’s decisions. Now the smallfolk think they can do as they please! That they can decide what the dragon should do!"

Rhaegar sighed. Even though Lord Tywin left King's Landing, his father couldn't change his ways. As it had been in Lord Tywin's time his father's court still stayed split into two parties. Only this time though instead of the conflict between the King and his Hand, now the conflict was between the King and his own son. 

Often times both their factions came face to face at the King’s court. Those loyal to the king were Lord Qarlton Chelsted, the master of coin, Lord Lucerys Velaryon, the master of ships, Lord Symond Staunton, the master of laws, Varys, the master of whisperers, and Wisdom Rossart. All enjoyed his father's trust and at court held great power and they had learned how to twist the king's madness to their own benefit, they had good reason to oppose Aerys Targaryen's removal from the Iron Throne.

Rhaegar's supporters were young Lord Jon Connington, Ser Myles Mooton, Ser Richard Lonmouth, and the Dornishmen who accompanied him at court, including Princess Elia's uncle, Prince Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard and his oldest friend Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. But none of the men who might take his side were present in the council. Ser Gerold was his only hope. If it was not for the Lord Commander, he would be completely alone in the council and his cases would likely fall on deaf ears. 

Rhaegar had always stood for the good of the kingdom. His main concerns were preparing the realm for the Prince that was Promised. The prince had long since known that he could never do it with his father on the throne and all his friends whispering in his ears. The king took great pleasure in the pain of the others, something that had troubled Rhaegar ever since he had seen the king's justice delivered to those who whom deserved it by the alchemist.

Whatever he did or said, it was vehemently opposed by the men loyal to his father. As much as Rhaegar succeeded in rallying his own supporters around him, the men who surrounded his father gradually grew aware of the truth of what might happen to them should it come down to the prince of Dragonstone. And they did their best to keep that power from getting to his hands.

"Looks as if the Prince of Dragonstone has turned soft at heart," Lord Qarlton Chelsted said. "If only Lord Tywin were here now. . ." He chuckled as if he knew a joke which was privy to his own heart.

"Too bad he is in Casterly Rock sulking or shitting gold," Merryweather finished the jape for him. The council members all laughed, his father louder than any of them. He felt odd sitting there with the small council. While the men were entertaining themselves at the jest about Lord Tywin, only the prince and Lord Commander Gerold were left out of it. 

Rhaegar turned towards his father as if to tell him to put an end to these needless japes and insults which was getting away from the point at issue.

"Your grace," Ser Gerold said quietly, "if I may say so. These men have come here to bask in your glory. Treating two senile men whose fate, so we were told, was all but fixed, could only hope to dishonour your royal progress. It would be wise to keep them away from you so that they can't taint your presence and your time with the people who had traveled from far away and wide to see you."

The king cursed and groaned, clenching his fists tight. "I should have them brought here and burn them in front of all these lords to make an example of what happens to traitors in a dragon's rule." He lifted his head up to gaze at Rhaegar again. "You can deal with these outlaws as you wish. I don't want to see them."

For that Rhaegar was glad. The sooner the king forgot about them the better, as it would keep two lives from going away for nothing. "As you say, your grace," Rhaegar nodded. He would have to send a letter to the Red Keep to send the men away to the Wall as soon as possible. Who knows what might Aerys Targaryen have in mind about them when he gets back to King's Landing. 

"Now with that done, call forth my newest Kingsguard," his father laughed happily. "I wish to have a talk with him. Tywin's bright golden heir is my loyal sentry." A vile burst of laughter came out of his mouth. "Can you believe it? Like father, like son. Both my servants, heh."

"It was deftly done, your grace," Velaryon said, smiling at the king. "Ridding Tywin Lannister of his precious heir. . . Let his dwarf rule Casterly Rock now."

"Perhaps I should take the imp as my personal fool as well," King Aerys cackled. "Maybe I should make both the brothers as the court fools."

"Wouldn't that be a sight to see?" the Hand of the King said. "The sons of Lord Tywin Lannister, the fools of the Red Keep."

Another storm of laughter filled the room much to Rhaegar's annoyance. Even after the man had left, his father still found the need to mock and insult Lord Tywin. A few moments later, the king turned away from his japes once again. "Where is the stupid boy?" he asked. 

"Ser Jaime is preparing for his joust tomorrow morning, your grace," Ser Gerold said. "Surely the people must love to see what your newest Kingsguard is capable of."

The king raised his chin a little and said, "I want him to go to King's Landing to keep Viserys safe."

"Your grace," Ser Gerold said quietly. "If it would please you, I could leave for King's Landing today to protect the Queen and prince Viserys."

"No," said his father rapping the table, "you will stay right here where I want you to. I am the king and I can send my guards wherever I want. I want Tywin's boy to get back to King's Landing to do his duty."

"Forgive me, your grace," murmured the Lord Commander. "It will be done as you said. I will send Ser Jaime back to King's Landing straight away."

"Perhaps it is wise to send Ser Gerold to King's Landing father," Rhaegar said. He knew he was treading at the edge of the wildfire but he was not afraid of it. Just like his father, he too was the blood of the dragon. "After all who better than to keep my brother and mother safe than the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

The king trembled with rage and his complexion grew darker yet under the pale shadow of his beard. "Be quiet, Rhaegar," said King Aerys, glancing coldly at his son. "Tywin's golden fool is none of your concern. You concern yourself with those outlaws."

Rhaegar bowed his head simply. "As you say, father." He stood up from the chair. "If that's all now, I'll take my leave."

By the time he returned to his quarters in the Widow's Tower, Harrenhal had turned into the castle of ghosts. He found Arthur Dayne at the end of bridge connecting the Kingspyre Tower to the Widow's Tower. "What happened with the king?"

"Nothing but the usual," Rhaegar said, sighing. "Traitors, spikes and fires. There has been news from the South of the capturing of the remaining outlaws." 

Arthur Dayne gave a sad, knowing smile. "And what has the king planned to do about them?"

"The gods alone know," the prince said. A wisp of grey smoke drifted up off the torch set in the sconce on the wall near the chambers where he stayed, writhing like a snake as it rose. "The advisors he has around him would have my father burn them just as he wants. I have convinced him to send them off to the Wall, with some help from Ser Gerold. But you know how the king could be."

"The Night's Watch could put them to good use," Arthur Dayne said, looking straight at their path.

Rhaegar nodded. "If the king let us sent them there," he said. "I should send a letter to Pycelle and get them out of there at once."

"That would be for the best," the Sword of the Morning said. 

Rhaegar stopped in his step for a moment. "Varys' presence have put us in bad position, Arthur," he said. "He is constantly whispering in my father's ears."

"What would you have me do, your grace?" his oldest friend asked.

"Nothing, for now," Rhaegar said. "We wait for now, Ser. We are placed in the world where chivalry is slowly descending into demise. It's time we took knowledge from it rather than just bearing witness to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing three stories at once is not an easy job. It has taken me so long to write a chapter for this fic. Just to put it out there, I have not abandoned this story. So if anyone is still following this one, I thank you for your patience and I can assure you that the next updates would be much sooner than this one. 
> 
> Now with that said, a little glimpse of Rhaegar in this chapter. I hope you like it. As always leave a comment and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading my story and have a nice day.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, Ned and Ashara will be the main pair but they will not be the only relationship I will explore here. I've always wanted to explore Robert/Lyanna (there's huge potential there), Rhaegar/Elia and some other familial relationships as well. There will be multiple povs. I hope you like the story. Let me know what you think about it.


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